Long Road to Ruin
by pink-robot-pentapi
Summary: Erik is in a bit of a mess. As in everyone else, come to mention it. So he sets the girls a challenge...
1. Just Shoot Me

LONG ROAD TO RUIN

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A/N: Yes, this is me attempting to write another story! Good luck with it, hope you enjoy…!

Disclaimer: THIS APPLIES FOR EVERY OTHER CHAPTER BECAUSE I CANNOT BE BOTHERED TO KEEP ADDING IT. I do not own this, and other than whoever did not appear in the books etc, Gaston Leroux OWNS THIS ALL.

I would like to thank Lennatha, who inspired me to re-write this….lmao.

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Chapter 1: Just Shoot Me

If this were any normal day, at this time (five thirty in the morning to be precise), Meg Giry would be whiling away the hours until the rest of Paris woke up by practising a dance, or maybe locking herself in her room and pretending to play poker with herself.

But this morning was very different to most mornings. In fact, Meg was stirring from a deep sleep in a strange bed next to a strange man. Technically she should have been waking to see the face (or not as the case may be) of the infamous Phantom of the Opera, known to few as Erik.

Of course, only technically. See, in the days in which Mrs le Fantome was living there was no Ricki Lake, Sally Jesse Raphael or Jeremy Kyle, and Erik couldn't take her on a talk show to question the morality of it and publicly humiliate her.

Trust me, he wanted to.

You might ask me, 'well, why is she doing it? They've only been married for, what, two weeks?' to which I would answer 'ah yes, but Christine de Chagny still lives on the Earth.' You heard me. Now, back to the story.

Meg yawned, stretched, and fell back down, her long blonde hair scattered across the pillow. The thin bed sheets were twisted around her thin frame and every inch of her body was visible beneath them. After attempting to lift herself up several times she finally grabbed hold of the bedpost and pulled, hard. The sheets fell and there was no chance of preserving her modesty at this stage. Swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, she stood, stretched again and reached for her underclothes. They, at least, were in one place. As far as she could remember, last night had been very heated. On the other hand, a lot of alcohol had been consumed and it wasn't very clear.

Meg eventually managed to find everything she had been wearing the previous night and put it on, ignoring her thumping headache and lurching stomach. Finally, she shot the sleeping eye candy in the bed a glance, and stumbled, blinking into the light.

………..

On the other side of Paris (because this is a story and it couldn't possibly be anywhere else), Erik was playing the organ. This is a polite term, and if I told you what I really meant then I'm sure you would recoil in horror.

I lie. With his mask on (or possibly lying on one side) who wouldn't be able to resist the charms of Don Juan meets Beethoven.

But yes, anyone who knows anything about Innuendo and Other Terms For Things will have figured out that Erik was thinking of a good looking woman formerly known as Boobzilla with blue eyes, blonde hair and one hell of a thin leotard. While he was busy playing away his sorrows Christine was making her way out of the swan bed, scantily clad and looking VERRRRY smug. Well, hey, what can I say?

She snuck up behind him and put one hand on his cheek and the other on his…shoulder (she tried to anyway, her back wasn't THAT flexible. Christine truly was a USELESS ballerina), and murmured in his ear, "and how are you this morning, darling?".

Now, before you shoot the messenger, I think that this calls for a rapid explanation.

Okay, so three days ago Christine had an argument with Raoul over how much he loved her (nauseating, isn't it?), and she went off in a huff. So Raoul turned all EMO and TRAGIC and spent the next few days crying in his room, Christine told Meg she's been having an affair with Erik, Meg went psycho and left, got pissed and slept with the first hot guy that came over to her table and said, in a deep voice, 'Bonsoir, ma cherie, are you lonely this evening?'. In the meantime Erik got a bit jealous and decided to tackle this not by hanging someone, his usual solution to a bit of stress, but by shagging Christine. For a genius this was tremendously stupid.

So, that's how all our protagonists got into this messy situation in the first place, but the question is, WHAT ARE THEY GOING TO DO ABOUT IT?

Well, we'll get to that.

So anyway, for now, everyone's screwed in more senses than one.

….IN NEXT CHAPTER…

_Meg staggered in, covered in the red liquid, her hands dripping with it and her pure white dress stained with it. _

"_Bleeding hell…" She whispered, as she fell onto the floor at Erik's feet…_

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BrideofthePhantom, copyrighted to her.


	2. Killer Wheels and Toffee Popcorn

A/N: Woot! Two chapters in one night? Better keep writing, my muse may try and escape. Handcuffs? Should have gone to Anne Summers.

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Chapter 2: Killer wheels

People were whispering to each other in the street…All the boys had gathered to watch her pass…The speed, the skill, the risk as she flew over flights of steps in Paris' back streets…

Meg Giry pedalled as fast as she could on her mother's bicycle, headed for the Opera house. Having come to her senses rather painfully (aided by a hangover-alcohol on an empty stomach is BAD for you, little children, BAAAAD…); she was going to make amends with Erik. Or so she thought. She finally skidded to a halt, spraying puddle water everywhere but (with a LOT of artistic licence) keeping her dress that pure white that you just have to wear to a post-break-up session.

She ran nimbly over the cobbles, skipped lightly up the steps to the grand building, pushed the door open and ran gracefully to the kitchens where a shortcut down to the lair was hidden (can you tell I'm taking the mickey out of myself yet?) and ran straight into a man with a tray. He'd managed to keep his balance but unfortunately he was no small rat-assisted waiter in a French restaurant and the stuff did not magically fly out and land straight in another pot or something, oh no. Meg was soaked.

Determined to keep going, she turned a corner, slipped into the spice cupboard, pulled the cinnamon jar to the right, slid down the chute, ran straight into a rock and winded herself.

I'm not going to bother with details here, because I've wasted a lot of my energy wondering how the hell she's run into so much bad luck! Poor girl. Anyway, she was there, standing by the boat, completely out of breath on the shore thingy of Erik's lair.

_Meg staggered in, covered in the red liquid, her hands dripping with it and her pure white dress stained with it. _

"_Bleeding hell…" She whispered, as she fell onto the floor at Erik's feet…_

Erik's eyes widened in horror as she collapsed, falling to his knees and brushing hair out of her eyes.

"Are you okay? Meg? MEG?" His heartbeat has quickened and did so even more after she didn't reply to him. He was breaking out in a cold sweat and-

"It's okay…" She wheezed. "It's only tomato sauce…"

Strangely, as relief spread through him like wildfire and warmed him up a tad (he hadn't heard of central heating), he thought _'tomato sauce…I should use that in an opera sometime…'_

He didn't stop to ask how it had happened, as he pulled her into an embrace. He stroked her cheek and then picked her up, straightening and walking over to a conveniently placed chaise longue covered in red velvet and placing her upon it.

This was the perfect time for our 'O.C-Julie Cooper-type' to walk in.

"Oh Erik, visitor? Why ever didn't you tell me, shall I make tea?" Ha. Out come the claws. Ladies, take your positions now please…

"You!" Hissed Meg, making a spectacular recovery. She jumped to her feet, assumed a defensive stance and clenched her fists.

What happened next is obvious.

It took Erik a few minutes to get over the fact that this REALLY turned him on, and then he knew he had to do something. Grabbing his Wal-Mart bag and reaching for a packet of Butterkist (man, Paris was the place to be, huh?) he pulled up a pew.

"Wahey! To the left! Little more of the-whoa!"

Eventually Meg and Christine decided that he was being totally unsupportive and went on strike. His disappointed face spoke volumes.

There was an awkward silence for about ten seconds before and then an idea hit Erik with lightening force. He picked himself up on the floor with the carpet man's number ringing round his head and beckoned the girls to lean in, gangsta style. He stared at their breasts while talking.

"Look, I've had an idea…" He said in a low voice. Then Christine butted in.

"What kind of idea?"

He sighed. "Well, you both want me. Don't deny it, you do." Their growls were getting a bit loud now… "So I'm setting you both a challenge. You spend a night with me; pull out all the stops you know? And whoever is the best stays. Great, eh?"

He was greeted with silence. Christine spoke first, in a sickeningly innocent voice. "But you're married…"

Meg interrupted. "Yeah, bitch, but so are you!" They glared at each other.

Erik cleared his throat.

"Come on! You'd both have fun…and so would I…And I can't decide!"

Whenever Erik used that pitiful tone of voice, no one could resist. Luckily, you can't hear him so you won't be taken in by his perverted antics.

Suddenly a smile broke out over Meg's face.

"Yeah, let's do it…"

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…IN THE NEXT CHAPTER…

"_Ha-WHAT?!?!"_

"_Yep, you heard me."_

"_That's….that's…that's weird!"_

"_It turns you on…It DOES! I saw your face!_

"_Maybe…"_

_Meg's conversation with herself was worrying her mother, who was standing outside the door…._

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A/N: YOU LOVE ME SAMN, EMSILIE AND LENNE!!! YOU DOOOOOO!


	3. Complainte de le Chagny

A/N: Have to go to the pub for dinner tonight. Bwah ha ha!

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Chapter three: Complainte de le Chagny 

"_Ha-WHAT?!?!"_

"_Yep, you heard me."_

"_That's….that's…that's weird!"_

"_It turns you on…It DOES! I saw your face!_

"_Maybe…"_

_Meg's conversation with herself was worrying her mother, who was standing outside the door…._

Funnily enough, Meg had had an idea. And so, it would seem, had Christine.

"Candles. He should have LOTS of them anyway. And maybe…no. That would just be kinky."

Raoul, the poor creature, was sitting outside Christine's room, wondering what she was talking about, where she had been, and who she may have been with. His eyes were red-rimmed from crying so much and next to him was a pile of handkerchiefs because his maid had gone away and he didn't know how to wash clothes. What a baby.

……….

Erik was on his way to the Giry house. He was paying his old friend Antoinette a visit, when he bumped into someone.

"Terribly sorry." He said, lifting his hat a little and giving a slight bow to the-

_HOTHOTHOTHOTHOTHOTHOTHOTHOTHOT_

Young woman who was standing in front of him looking…Hot.

He felt something needed to be said, and as his face flushed a little, he opened his mouth and said "and who might you be?"

The young woman smiled.

"Sabine. Sabine Piccard. Who are you?" She smiled.

Erik put on his best 'I'm a sexy man who's looking for lurve' face, and gave a smile.

"I, mademoiselle, am the Phantom of the Opera. I hope I haven't scared you."

She gave a tinkling laugh.

"I'm sure, monsieur, that you won't do anything of the kind. I'm unshockable."

The way she was fluttering her eyelashes, and the way she looked at him from under them left no doubt in Erik's mind as to what she wanted.

He was willing to oblige, and took her arm.

"Shall we go for a stroll?"

She smiled widely.

"What a good idea…"

……….

Antoinette Giry was sitting, rather annoyed, in her kitchen. Erik had never arrived, and now a letter, in his writing with his…_distinctive_ little wax seal had been delivered by a flustered looking little boy with tears in his eyes. Antoinette wondered what it was that had upset him so. Erik couldn't have been doing anything that outrageous, could he?

Anyway, she had given the letter to Meg who, with a secretive smile, had snatched it away and run upstairs. Ten minutes later she still wasn't back. The envelope hadn't felt that thick, and she could hear footsteps coming from her daughter's room so she probably should have read the letter by now. Madame Giry sighed, and stood, slowly from her rocking chair and went to pour the tea.

……….

Meg and Christine were doing the same thing at the very same moment. Both had opened their letters, read them and jumped about with excitement for a few minutes. The time: Tonight at seven for Christine, Ten for Meg. The place: Erik's lair.

This meant one thing: SHOPPING. Both, at the same time would you believe it, were in the street heading for Paris' best corset fitters, tailors and of course, jewellers. George at Asda or F&F at Tesco just wasn't good enough for this occasion, although they had served well for some birthdays.


End file.
